A/N: Finally… Eragon wakes up. I don't know if the magic in the end makes sense, but I couldn't think of any other way to lock the windows.

Reviews: I finally understand what other authors mean with living off reviews. Thank you guys so much, you make writing even more fun for me.

-DDudeDerek: Ahh, don't apologize. you don't have to review every chapter. I hope I could lighten up your class a little for you? ;)

-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole: Oh, ok, I get it ;) But I'm not much of a CP fan, so it's useless. I'm writing as fast as possible anyway.

-animeluva713: I just looked up this Tamora Pierce at google… never heard of her. Whatever I wrote, it was unintentional. and I've never really thought about OC's before… these two just jumped into my head, telling me Murty would never manage on his own. After all, he's their lord and they feel this typical strange responsibility for him… hard to describe. Often happens in such relationships.

-Jack Skellington's mistress: Oh, we like Eragon/Ed, do we? ;) I must confess, I'm more of a Murtagh-fangirl, but I'll try my best with Eragon. After all he's a cutie.


Struggle

16th Harvest Moon


Murtagh had left the room early in the morning, leaving a quietly sleeping Eragon, and had walked around the house, taking in the details. How small everything had become in contrast to his memories! After stopping at the kitchen and eating some of the food that Rynia had stored away, he decided to take a little care of himself and went outside. At the small stream that passed the estate on its way to Lake Tüdosten he bathed and shaved, feeling almost newborn afterwards. He lingered around for a while and his eyes followed Thorn, who was enjoying himself with risky flight manoeuvres in the distance. Then his feet moved on their own, back towards the house and back towards Eragon.

When he entered the room, Eragon was half sitting in the bed, supported by his left arm, thirstily helping himself to water from the bedside table.

Then several things happened in a rush.

When Eragon noticed Murtagh in the doorway, he let the cup in his hands drop, tumbled off the bed and staggered towards Murtagh's sword that still lay on the floor from the previous day.

Murtagh cursed himself for his forgetfulness and sprinted in the same direction, but he was not quick enough. Eragon was clutching the sword hilt with both hands and directed the tip towards his brother, who was only a few feet away. His arms were shaking from the weight and it looked like his legs were about to give way. "Don't move!" he hissed. "Don't move or I'll cut your throat!" Sweat was already showing on his skin from the exertion; at the same time he was shivering – he was completely naked except for the bandages.

"Eragon." Murtagh slowly raised his hands in a reassuring gesture. "Eragon, this is madness. Drop the sword and calm down." He made a tentative step forward.

"Don't move, I said." Eragon's face was a grimace of pain and hatred and he began to sway in earnest now.

"Eragon, listen, we can settle everything, everything, once you're well again. But not now, look at yourself, you're weak and sick, you have to rest." Murtagh watched Eragon's eyes closely, waiting for the smallest sign of response. "You have nothing to fear of me, I am not your enemy and there is no one else here." He sighed. "And put that damn sword down, you can't fight me. Don't forget my magic."

"I will only put the sword down and rest once you're dead, murderer!" With that Eragon lifted the weapon and made a step forward, but he was far too slow. Murtagh disarmed him instantly with a spell, the sword dropped to the ground and he put a foot on top. Realizing that he could not fight, Eragon tried to get to the door. But in his condition it was more than useless; Murtagh blocked his way before he was halfway there.

Murtagh's eyes were blazing. "For fate's sake, Eragon, can't you see what you are doing to yourself? Go back to the bed, anything else is insane…" No reaction. "Don't make me force you," he pleaded.

Eragon did not move and simply stared at Murtagh hostilely.

The dark Rider inhaled deeply once and then closed the distance between him and Eragon in an instant and grabbed the younger one's wrists, pulling him to the bed. Eragon winced, Murtagh's grip on his calloused joints hurt and he was frustrated that he could not help being dragged along. Murtagh pushed the blond onto the covers, ignoring his feeble struggle. The longer the contact between his hands and Eragon's wrists lasted, the more anxious his brother got, trying with what little strength he had left to get free. "Please, lie still." Murtagh was desperate.

"You-You're not com-manding me," Eragon gasped, his attempt at authority failing. "I won't lie here unarmed and ... naked at your mercy. You say you're not my enemy? Then let go of me!"

"I can't Eragon. I would if you were well, but not like this…" Deep sadness was in Murtagh's voice and it reached his eyes when he decided to do what he had previously considered his last option. His left foot felt around under the bed for a moment and then produced a rope and he quickly bent down and picked it up.

When Eragon saw what Murtagh held in his hand a small cry escaped his lips and he tried one last time to fend off his brother, panic showing clearly in his eyes.

Murtagh closed his heart and swiftly bound Eragon's hands above his head to the upper bedpost and his feet to the lower one. Eragon ceased fighting and went limp and Murtagh thought he saw a single tear on his cheek before Eragon turned his head away. It was an image of such helplessness and resignation that it nearly choked Murtagh. "I'm so sorry…," he whispered, threw a blanket over Eragon and fled from the room.


Murtagh found Thorn in the barn; his dragon was evidently expecting him.

Rider… I heard noises from your room. Eragon is awake?

Murtagh slumped to the ground next to his companion and laid his hand on the scales as he always did when in need of steadying himself. He is… and he tried to fight me. I had to force him back to the bed.

Well, some people have to be forced for their own good, right? Thorn was not sure yet what his Rider was getting at.

Thorn…I bound him to the bed. I did the same thing that his torturers have done… I want to help him and first thing after he wakes up is this. Murtagh slammed his fist to the floor so forcefully that he felt the impact up to his shoulder. I'm making it worse, much worse. I am reminding him of his trauma when actually he should be resting. It will be hell for him in any case to come to terms with the abuse – and me of all people rescuing him – and there's no way he can already face that.

Rider, I really don't want to sound heartless, but he has to stay in bed at the moment, right? I'm certain he's not even able to walk ten yards in his current condition. If he does not accept that… you don't have a choice. Thorn told himself he needed to change the topic, at least slightly. Could you give him the medicine? That should help with the recovery, I think.

No, I couldn't. Murtagh sounded resigned. And for sure I can't do it now or in the near future, he'd probably spit it right in my face. Besides, I'm not going back there soon anyway. I cause him a lot more pain than he is already in. He has drunk some water, so I don't have to worry about that.

Thorn swore mentally, his tactic had failed. Think, spikey lizard, think! Didn't Jora want to come by today to check on Eragon? It's probably not so good an idea, is it? Very good. I think you should go and prevent the old lady from taking an unnecessary walk.

I probably should… Absentmindedly Murtagh patted Thorn goodbye and left the barn.

Chin up, young one! Can hardly get any worse, can it?

Thorn, Murtagh managed a frail smile, optimism is a good character trait, but I'm not so sure about your nutty spirit.


He returned to the house only after the sun had set, all too aware that it was definitely no behaviour of good nursing to delay it for so long, but he knew he could not stand anything like the scene in the morning again.

He tiptoed to the door of the room and only when he could discern the deep, steady breath of someone sleeping did he enter. He lit a fire and turned to the bed, immediately unfastening his brother, who curled up into a ball with a sigh. Murtagh replaced some of the bandages and took a clean cloth, wet it, and quickly washed the dried sweat off Eragon's body. The fever had not gone down any further; this morning's exertion had probably interrupted the convalescence.

Murtagh went over to the windows and the doorway that led to the balcony and locked the shutters carefully with magic. He would not put it past Eragon to try to jump or climb down from the room, regardless of his splinted leg and other defects. Better no fresh air than a disastrous attempt of escape. On his way out, he stopped at the bed again, placing his hand gently on Eragon's cheek. Murtagh's face went soft with the memory of the previous night. He made sure there was enough water available and left, locking the main door behind him.

Thorn was waiting silently, lifted a wing, and his Rider huddled against the warm stomach. He felt Murtagh's thoughts swirl around and then quiet down, giving in to sleep.